


Stepping Out Of The Shadow

by Silvandar



Series: Zines and Bangs [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Coach Victor Nikiforov, M/M, Major Illness, Post-Canon, Zine: Namida, namida zine, otayuri - Freeform, yoi angst zine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-01
Updated: 2019-07-01
Packaged: 2020-06-02 08:51:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19438054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silvandar/pseuds/Silvandar
Summary: When Yakov falls ill, Yuri has to face the possibility of living in Victor's shadow for the rest of his career...Published inNamida: YOI Angst Zine, all proceeds went towardsThe Trevor Projectsupporting LGBTQ+ youth.





	Stepping Out Of The Shadow

**Author's Note:**

> The first piece for Namida. Art by the incredible [@Whiskeyjack](https://twitter.com/s_Whiskeyjack) [here](https://twitter.com/s_Whiskeyjack/status/1145836053778948097?s=19)
> 
> The Trevor Project was founded in 1998 by the creators of the Academy Award®-winning short film TREVOR, The Trevor Project is the leading national organization providing crisis intervention and suicide prevention services to lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, queer & questioning (LGBTQ) young people under 25.

_Yuri, ring me now. It's Yakov, he's in hospital._

She was waiting for him, her expression utterly flat and frozen, forbidding any kind of emotional outburst, the same expression she’d worn during years of choreography and training. He didn't need to be told; he'd spotted a few familiar reporters in the car park outside and knew the word of his coach’s illness was already spreading fast. Better to not give anything away yet, until they knew more. Nodding at Lilia silently and locking his face into his trademark scowl, Yuri took a seat next to her in the echoing, sterile waiting room of the Intensive Care Unit. 

Victor was the exact opposite, arriving in a flurry, eyes darkened with unshed tears, Yuuri being towed along like a worried balloon. Yuri felt an instant urge to kick him, his preferred reaction to being faced with strong emotions in other people. Fighting it back, the blonde leaned on the wall out of range of Victor’s weeping and left it to Lilia to explain that Yakov had been at the rink with the Juniors when he'd felt hot and then collapsed. The ambulance had confirmed it was a stroke.

The next few days were that odd mix of manic and calm that sometimes arrived after a crisis. Victor was quickly thrown into taking over the senior team's coaching schedule, the team management accepting no opposition from him. It was clear; if Yakov died, or wasn't well enough to resume his duties before next season, Victor's retirement from competition would become official. Until they had news either way, he was expected to keep the ship afloat.

Unexpectedly, Yuri found himself landed with the more practical aspects of Yakov's care. To his astonishment, he discovered that when he had turned 18, Yakov had listed him alongside Victor as his 'next of kin'. While Victor was trying to carry the weight of the team, Yuri was left with everything else; arranging insurance claims for the rink, handling the hospital and doctors, looking after Yakov’s house and staff... it all fell squarely on the shoulders of the blonde. Lilia helped him as much as she could, but despite the rekindling of their romantic relationship she had no legal ties to Yakov. Yuri's name was needed on everything, and there seemed to be endless appointments and paperwork. By the time it became apparent that Yakov would survive but need long term care and rehabilitation, Yuri was close to breaking point. 

As a result, it took two weeks for Yuri to start making his regular team practice again. He'd been forced to grab what time he could at the rink during public hours in the evenings, since his days had been full of meetings and phone calls. When he did eventually get to his normal scheduled practice time, it was with immense confusion that he found Victor standing beside the rink waiting for him.

“What are you doing here, old man?” Yuri rested his skate bag on a bench and eyed the silver haired ex-champion suspiciously. Victor made an apologetic shrugging motion and gestured to the rink.

“You said you'd make it today, so I moved my schedule around.”

“Why?”

Victor rested his finger against his lips, a gesture that Yuri recognised as his attempt to forestall an outburst. The blonde raised an eyebrow immediately.

“The management have appointed me lead coach for the senior team while Yakov is sick, and you're the best skater on that team. So here I am.”

As his words sank in, Yuri felt the ground under him shudder and shift. Memories assaulted him; his first Grand Prix final, when his gold had been overshadowed by the announcement of Victor's return to the ice... Worlds that year, when Victor had taken bronze and his return performance had dominated the headlines, pushing Yuri's first Senior World Championship gold into the background... the endless string of press conferences and interviews and photoshoots with Victor and Yuuri as the focus, and the three time World Champion in one or two shots, often not even invited. His mind burned with the phrase he'd heard a thousand times... “Yuri Plisetsky has a lot of potential... but he's no Nikiforov...” Without a word, Yuri spun on his heel and stormed out of the rink.

He walked for hours, the midsummer warmth making his thick rink coat stick to his skin with sweat. Eventually stripping down and finding a coffee shop to lurk in, he checked the time difference and then dialled the only number he'd been yearning to call. The phone rang a few times, then his boyfriend picked up with a soft murmur of greeting. The second he heard Otabek’s voice, Yuri’s emotions exploded in his chest and he buried his head in his arms, hiding the tears of rage that pricked his eyes.

“Th-they're making V-Victor c-coach me...”

“Where are you?”

“C-coffee sh-shop...”

“Go home and cuddle Potya, then skype me.”

Nodding, Yuri hung up and scrubbed his cheeks clear, leaving his drink abandoned on the table. Twenty minutes later he was in light shorts and a t shirt, showered and curled up with his cat in his arms. Her blissful purring soothed him as he fired up skype, and after a moment, Otabek answered with concern written all over his face.

“What happened?”

Fighting back more tears, Yuri filled him in. The Kazakh’s expression grew resigned, and he shook his head.

“We thought this might happen.”

“ _You_ thought it. I said no way! He's only been coaching five minutes...”

“It's not about that, it's about the prestige. They know how much the fans will lap this up... not to mention the judges. They adore him.”

Burying his face in Potya's silky fur, Yuri shook his head. “I can't...”

“I know.” And he did know... Otabek had listened to every one of Yuri's angry rants over the last three years, had sympathised and been outraged along with him each time Victor's fame had eclipsed Yuri's successes. The night Victor had been honoured at the banquet for Yuri's second consecutive Grand Prix Final win, Otabek had been the one holding the blonde for hours in his hotel room as he screamed and cried his frustration and heartbreak.

“He hates the way the press behave as much as you do...”

“Bullshit. He laps it up!”

“He doesn't.” Otabek's voice was calm, and Yuri resisted the urge to throw himself into a full tantrum. He knew the other skater would never lie to him, or say things to hurt him. Otabek was probably the only person in the world Yuri always listened to. “He has no choice but to play nice. He's been trained since he was tiny to smile and be the media darling... you never had to do that when you were on your way up. It's second nature for him.”

Sighing, Yuri lay down on his bed and pulled the laptop closer to his pillow, letting Potya see the screen. She batted Otabek's image gently then curled up on the keys for warmth. “What am I going to do, Beka?”

“You've got three choices. Put up with it, refuse and take the consequences, or quit the team.”

“Well. That's typically blunt.”

“Sorry...”

“No, I... I need blunt right now.”

Otabek glanced down at his phone as he thought. “Do you want me to fly out early? I can shift my holiday dates...”

“You'd do that?”

“Of course!” He frowned, resting his chin on his hand. “I hate the thought of you suffering and me being so far away. I'd been thinking about it since Yakov got sick, but I didn't want to stress you out any more by being in your space.”

“Please do that” Yuri said, nodding furiously. The thought of dealing with everything suddenly seemed a lot more bearable, if he had Otabek at his side. “I wanted to ask you to come as soon as it happened, but I was worried about taking too much of your time...”

Otabek shook his head, amused. “So we're both idiots then?”

“Yeah, looks like it.”

* * *

Not trusting himself to cope with the reunion in public, Yuri decided to wait for Otabek at his flat. When the knock at the door came, he threw it open fully prepared to fling himself into the shorter man's arms and weep for an hour. Finding Victor outside the door was such a shock that he froze, mouth hanging open, until the older skater stepped inside uninvited. Then, his paralysis broke into fury.

“Get out!”

“Not until you've listened to me. I know how angry you are with me right now, and I get it. But you're skipping practices and avoiding the team, and it's been noticed.”

Glaring at his unwanted houseguest, Yuri stomped over to the kitchen counter and leaned on it, pressing his palms against the cool marble surface to ground himself. “I don't trust myself anywhere near you with knives on my feet.”

“You know this isn't my fault, right?”

Grinding his teeth, Yuri shook his head. “I don't care who's fault it is. You're doing _nothing_ to help me...”

“You've avoided me for a week!” Victor's infuriating calm finally broke, his blue eyes narrowing as he surveyed the blonde. “You haven't even _asked_ what I'm doing about it!”

Pausing, Yuri recalibrated his thoughts. Otabek's words came back to him, and he folded his arms across his chest as he tried to calm down. “You're right.”

“No, _listen_ to me, I... what?”

“I said you're right. This isn't your fault.”

Caught off guard, Victor visibly deflated and leaned against the back of the couch. “Wow.”

“Shut up.”

“I spoke to management” Victor pulled a thick A4 envelope out of his pocket and passed it to the blonde. “I don't know what they're going to do, but they've ordered a meeting with both of us. I made it very clear that you didn't need me as your coach, and that having me in that position would negatively affect your skate.” Pausing, he sighed and passed a hand across his face. “I don't think they listened” he admitted, and Yuri frowned.

“Otabek's due in any minute. I'll wait for him before I open this.”

“He's coming early?” the older skater nodded, genuinely pleased. “I'm glad. I was worried that you weren't letting anyone support you.”

“Oh fuck off” Yuri waved at the door, but his tone was gentle and he was calmer than he'd been in days. “Unless you _want_ to watch me ripping his clothes off when he gets here?”

“And on that note, I'm out” Victor chuckled as he left. “If you need to talk about the letter, ring me.”

“Whatever.”

Otabek arrived a short while later, and Yuri decided to say hello properly before opening the envelope. Grabbing him by the collar of his leather jacket, Yuri hauled him in the direction of the bedroom as soon as he got in the door. Used to the enthusiasm of the blonde after so many years of dating, Otabek chuckled with fond amusement as he was stripped and thrown onto the bed. 

Their greeting was heated and lengthy, ending with a shared shower that temporarily alleviated Yuri’s stress and despair. A nap and some food was followed by a return to the bedroom, this time the touches tender and calming. Eventually they lay curled up in bed, Otabek stroking his fingers through thick blonde hair to soothe his lover as they looked at the letter together. 

“It's a copy of my contract” Yuri murmured dully. The letter attached was brief, and requested his presence for a meeting to discuss ‘fulfilment of obligations’. “They're going to say if I refuse to train under Victor, I'll be in breach of my contract...”

“That doesn't sound right” Otabek frowned, leafing through the lengthy agreement between the blonde and the Figure Skating Federation of Russia. “It's hard to believe they'd risk you quitting, you're the current World Champion. So I can't see them firing you, either!”

“If they fire me for breach of contract, no-one else will touch me... I'll be a liability, damaged goods. I won’t be able to compete, and they can line up another skater as my replacement...”

“That’s a bit dramatic, even for you” Otabek shrugged, making the blonde scrunch his nose as he got a gentle elbow in the ribs. “Maybe they're just trying to scare you, to make you fall back in line. You've always been difficult for them to handle, Yakov was the only one who could really control you.”

“I'm a terrible example of a Russian figure skater” Yuri nodded, untangling from Otabek and scrubbing his hands through his hair. “We're all supposed to be happy little robots, and then I come along...”

“It's not that bad” Otabek laughed, “you're just less willing to be managed, that's all. Most of your teammates know the FSFR wants to ensure their best performance and success, so they're happy to go along with it. You always think you know better.”

“I _do_ know better. I'm one of the youngest world champions this country has ever produced.”

“Did you ever stop to think that without Yakov having your back, you would never have made it this far?” Otabek's tone was gentle, but Yuri spun as if he'd been struck. His eyes were wide, and his lip curled in anger immediately.

“What the fuck does that mean, Altin?”

Wincing at the Russian's deliberate use of his surname, the older skater raised his hands placatingly. “Yakov always kept a buffer between you and the management, you know that. He recognised your talent, but knew your personality would never suit their usual method. He gave you a lot more wriggle room than anyone else on the team… perhaps if he hadn't done that, you would have...”

“What? Would have what?”

“Washed out of the training program as a kid” Otabek finished reluctantly, knowing the harsh words needed to be said if Yuri was ever going to start thinking rationally about the situation. “Or quit long before making your senior debut. You don't tolerate being pushed, Yakov knew that. Team management obviously don't - they're expecting you to be a good little boy and get back in line as soon as they raise their voice.”

Snarling, Yuri began to pace the bedroom, seemingly unaware that he was in black boxers and messy sex hair. The sight was amusing, but Otabek knew any laughter at this point in the discussion would be a death sentence.

“So what do I do? I _can't_ train under Victor... the moment I do, everything from that moment on will be because of him. I can hear the headlines now - ‘Yuri Plisetsky achieves greatness thanks to the mentoring of Victor Nikiforov’” Yuri looked as if he wanted to be sick and punch something at the same time. 

“He had the same thing you know, being Yakov's student. He was constantly expected to fill Yakov's shoes... constantly compared... he knows how you're feeling, he always has.”

“He said he's been trying to fight it” Yuri sighed, the hectic energy draining out of him suddenly. Dropping onto the end of the bed, he buried his face in his hands. “What am I going to (( _do_ , )) Beka?”

Relieved that Yuri had forgiven him and was back to using the diminutive, Otabek moved to sit beside him and tucked him into his arms. “Go to the meeting, and try and keep your temper. I'll make some calls... there might be another option we haven't thought of yet. Can I keep hold of your contract for now?”

“Wipe your ass with it for all I care.” Yuri’s voice sounded broken and tired. Sighing, Otabek held the blonde close as his rage slowly dissipated, murmuring soothing, loving words and stroking his hair.

* * *

“All I'm asking is that you _trust me…_ let me do the talking, and don't lose your temper.”

“So... be a different person entirely for an hour?”

Sighing, Victor pushed his untouched coffee aside and gazed at the blonde. Beside Yuri, Otabek made a soft noise, and the taller skater deflated. “Fine. I'll keep my mouth shut... I don't see how this will help though. They want my head.”

“They're not unreasonable” Yuuri Katsuki had joined them for the last brief before the management meeting, sitting beside his husband and twisting his coffee cup between his hands. The anxious movements made Yuri want to slap him. Biting back his unkind reaction to the Japanese skater, he raised an eyebrow.

“Yuuri's right. When I quit and went to Hasetsu, the management could have sued me for breach of contract but they didn't. When I decided to come back, they could have ostracised me, but they chose to welcome me instead. They're not stupid, they know you're Russia's future.”

“Most importantly, they know how you're likely to react if they try to force you” Yuuri added, his expression worried. “They don't want to lose you, Yuri.”

The meeting was scheduled with the management of the FSFR at their St Petersburg branch, and despite the words of comfort, Yuri wasn’t reassured. Wanting a quick escape route if he needed it, he met Victor there, parking his motorcycle outside the building and straightening his hair as the older man greeted him. Together, they made their way to the boardroom.

They were early, so the secretary installed them in a waiting room with water and coffee. High in the building, they could see out over the city through the plate glass windows. St Petersburg shone in the summer sun, the gleam of water just visible to the north. With a pang of regret and fear, Yuri realised he had come to love this city almost as much as Moscow. Closing his eyes, he leaned his forehead on the cool glass, trying to centre himself.

“It'll be OK, Yuri” Victor's voice was quiet, and the blonde nodded wordlessly.

The meeting began tense, with the management team arriving in crisp suits, armed with copies of contracts and the various agreements Yuri had signed over the years. Immediately on edge, Yuri found Victor's hand around his wrist under the table, keeping him tethered as the three representatives of the FSFR laid out his obligations and the expectations of a Russian figure skater. All words he had heard a hundred times from Yakov, but never used as weapons against him quite like this. Yuri could feel his temperature rising with rage as they finished and Victor began to speak.

“Mr Plisetsky understands his obligations and the nature of his contract with the FSFR” Victor attempted to start on a positive note. “His concern... and mine... is that his future success could be affected if he trains under me. Coach Feltsman has been with him since he was tiny, they have a rapport and they compliment each other's ways of thinking in ways I cannot hope to replicate. Besides that, I'm relatively inexperienced as a coach, and the burden of the senior team is already as much as I can handle. Being responsible for the Russian World Champion as well... the risk of his skate being impacted by my rookie mistakes is too high.”

As everyone in the room stared at Victor, the HR manager coughed politely and said “are you refusing to coach him, Mr Nikiforov?”

“Yes, I think I am. Taking him on would not be in the best interests of Mr Plisetsky, the senior team or the FSFR.”

There was a long silence, broken only by the shuffling of papers. Victor sat calmly while Yuri brooded, the older skater waiting for the pause to reach agonising levels of awkwardness before he cleared his throat. The three managers leaned towards the sound of his voice like drowning men offered a life raft. Yuri fought back a grin, appreciating his friend's devious side for the first time in years.

“I have a potential solution... but it requires a rather unorthodox approach, and a careful publicity spin.”

Three sets of eyebrows raised. “It is the opinion of management that it would be inappropriate for any of the other senior team coaches to work with him... most of them are not _emotionally_ suited for Mr Plisetsky's temperament… your ability to control him was part of the decision to appoint you as his coach.”

“What the _f_ _uck_ does that mean!” Yuri exploded, leaping up from his chair in a fury. 

“Wait outside, Yuri” Victor's voice was crisp and he stood as he spoke, pointing to the door with a stern expression. Snarling at him, the blonde slammed his seat back and stormed out of the room.

* * *

Yuri pushed open his front door and the sound of voices from the lounge quickly cut off. Sighing in resignation, he threw his leather jacket and helmet in a pile on the table and grabbed a beer from the fridge. Diet be damned, he needed something to calm him down.

“When I said wait outside, I didn't mean 'get on your bike and disappear for three hours'” Victor's voice was disapproving but not surprised, and Otabek shook his head as Yuri plonked himself down on his thighs. Demanding contact and attention was standard when the blonde was grumpy and tired, but the older skater knew better than to actually hug him. Touching was usually on Yuri's terms only when he was like this... yet more evidence that his boyfriend might actually be a cat.

“Parking ticket” Yuri snapped in response, and Victor rolled his eyes at the obvious lie. “So what did they say?”

“They said no.” As Yuri leaped up and began to swear, Victor raised his voice. “I spent an hour talking them round, in the end I had to threaten to quit if they forced you on me. They had no choice but to agree after that.”

“Fucking assholes, they... wait, what? You did _what?_ ”

Otabek tugged Yuri back down onto the couch next to him, and gave him a serious look. “Sophia texted just before you got back. They're making the arrangements now, they're going to do a press conference next week.”

“You threatened to _quit…_ ” Yuri repeated weakly, leaning against Otabek’s shoulder as shock and hope began rolling over him in waves. 

“I owe it to you” Victor said, leaning forward and putting his hands on his knees. “Ever since I went to Hastsu, I've only been thinking about myself and what _I_ wanted. Everything I've done since then has been selfish. I've overshadowed you again and again... it wasn't always my fault, but I didn’t do enough to prevent it. Threatening to quit was the only way to make them realise the stakes... they'd lose both of us in one go. They couldn't risk that.”

“So th-they're letting me go?”

“Transfer of home rink, and a contract with Sofia Karimov to take over from Yakov as your coach. You'll train in Almaty, but you'll still skate for Russia, obviously. There'll be a list of techniques and training methods you can and can't share with the Kazakh team a mile long, I expect. I had the same when I went to coach Yuuri... 'trade secrets' as they say.”

Yuri pushed his drink aside, untouched. “How did you get them to agree to it?”

“I spoke to Lilia before the meeting” Victor took Yuri's beer and drank deeply, looking sad. “She suggested a way to spin it to management, and Yakov approved her plan. The official story will be that his illness has affected you deeply, and remaining in St Petersburg or Moscow is too painful and distracting. You and Otabek have been public for a while now, so the move to Almaty shouldn't surprise anyone.”

“Yakov _approved_ of that bullshit?”

“It's not _that_ far from the truth. Staying here _would_ be too painful... just not quite as directly we implied.”

“That's ridiculous...”

“The press will love it” Otabek said gently. “The Ice Tiger of Russia proves he has a warm and beating heart... it'll be good for your image, _and_ make the FSFR look compassionate and understanding on the world stage.” Sensing the shift in mood, Victor smiled and stood up, grabbing his coat as he headed silently out the door. 

Tucking Yuri’s hair behind his ear, Otabek continued. “You get what you want, and I get what _I_ want.”

Yuri looked baffled. “What do you get?”

“I get _you_ , permanently. No more flights, no more skype. Just you, me and Potya, all under one roof.”

Yuri gaped at him for a moment as the reality of it all sank in, then he whimpered and threw himself into Otabek's arms, tipping them both off the couch and onto the floor. Laughing, the smaller skater buried his face in Yuri's blonde hair, holding him in an embrace that was painfully, wonderfully tight. Yuri closed his eyes and let his tears of relief soak into Otabek's shirt. He never wanted him to let go… and now he would never have to. 

**Author's Note:**

> [Links](https://linktr.ee/artofsilvandar) to my online accounts  
> I love talking to people, so please follow me on Twitter or Tumblr!
> 
> * * *
> 
> Some of my other fics you might enjoy:  
> ["Bratva on Ice"](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1173482) my Otayuri Mafia AU  
> Canon based Kink!Otayuri fans[ click here!](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1144475)  
> Vampire/Nephilim OtaYuri AU[ A Kiss To Remember](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1197235) Winner of NaNoWriMo 2018  
> Multi fandom [drabbles and one-shots](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1298186)  
> 


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